Hallowed Ground
by HerOwnMinerva
Summary: MMHG: A Hallows Fic. DH Compliant. Begins post-epilogue. Hermione returns to Hogwarts on order of the Ministry and has some less than savory news for the Headmistress. But when current events set off a chain reaction, both women will find themselves on a path upon which the only way is forward. "M" for future content
1. Chapter 1

AN: Greetings, fellow shippers! Please enjoy this new fic, and buckle up for a long haul here. This is going to be a longer work with a slow-developing plot. Without giving too much away, this is going to be a story involving a resurfacing of the Hallows with Hermione and Minerva at the helm.

Reviews and Feedback are always welcome and highly encouraged.

Chapter 1: A Long Day

It had been a crisp, cool Thursday at Hogwarts when Hermione paid her visit. She breathed in the full scents of autumn, damp leaves, perfumed pines, the brine from the lake preparing for the first frost of the season…Eyes closed, memories all too clear rushed through her, stimulating the pages of imagery locked in deep recesses. There was little time in the schedule today to be bombarded with sentiments, even if involuntarily. There was much to do, and Hermione was sure that the Head of Hogwarts was as equally engrossed in paperwork as she was at the Ministry.

As her ministry robes swept the threshold of the castle wards, a gentle thrum of magic washed over the arms of Headmistress Minerva McGonagall. She glanced at the clock situated on the wall of her office, its hands moving do don seven o'clock. 'Punctual, as always,' she smiled to herself, despite all of the work she knew would not be done 'til the morrow.

Minerva left her office, slipping on her emerald cloak to fend off the chill of the early morning. Flush cheeks and a tired, yet genuine smile greeted the Headmistress as she opened the gate with a wave. "Hermione," she smiled. She had never quite mustered the fortitude to call her 'Mrs. Weasley,' like 'Potter' had stuck for Harry as it rolled off in her brogue. 'Ms. Granger' hardly seemed appropriate, given that she had married into the Weasley clan. So the Headmistress had settled on a more simple pleasantry of using her first name, in hopes that it wasn't too much of a step out of her otherwise strategically austere behavior.

This was all the better for Hermione, who, despite the afflictive nature of her visit, would have liked nothing more than to skip the formalities for the day. 'Granger' had been the last part of Hermione's identity that tethered her to her parents. She would never call it to attention, but rather joked faintly that 'Mrs. Weasley' was a title to which no one besides Molly could ever hope to hold a candle.

"Headmistress," Hermione greeted with an extended hand, chilled from the nip of the early air.

Minerva beckoned Hermione through the wards, quickly having realized from their handshake that her former pupil must have neglected her gloves before departing. "Let's head up for a cup of tea, shall we?" They quickened their step. "And please," she placed a hand atop Hermione's shoulder. "Minerva will do just fine, unless of course you've come as an emissary of distress this morning," she arched an eyebrow, leaving an air of question hanging on the end of her aphorism.

Hermione smiled awkwardly, wishing she had better news to deliver this morning. Her only hope was that she could somehow mitigate the dissentient response from the Headmistress.

Inside her office, a fire was crackling happily in the hearth. A pot of tea piped gently on an immaculately ordered desk. Hermione's spirits rose at the sight. She had seriously considered a professorship before moving on to the Ministry, and Hermione was quite convinced that her office would have looked similar.

Books lined almost the entire expanse of the walls, and the decorum was minimal, yet meaningful. As she shed her outer robe and began to warm, she could smell the pages of the books, the faintest scent of ginger from an open tin of biscuits, and the roasting wood in the grate. It had been almost twenty years since Hermione had last set foot onto these grounds, and likewise since she had sat in this office. She had known that today would challenge her, but she hadn't been prepared for the effects that the 'small things' would have on her.

Shaking off the notion that today could be a day to catch up on older times, Hermione sighed as Minerva poured two cups of tea and ushered Hermione to sit across from her. Anxious as she was as to what this meeting was about, the Headmistress was convinced that it couldn't be anything spectacular. Hermione's owl had come stamped officially from the Ministry, carrying the Minister's seal. It had divulged no more than there was to be a meeting on October the 14th, at precisely seven o'clock, and that her accommodation was greatly appreciated. It had been signed through Hermione Weasley, requested by the board of governors.

"Seeing as how we've had little correspondence outside of your daughter's first year here at school, I presume you are here on business, Hermione," she sipped her tea. "Although the memorandum from the board was a sharp clue as well."

Hermione cringed inwardly at the thought of Minerva receiving such an owl with no notice. She had so desired to send one personally, but the restrictions on such a forewarning were clear. Clutching her cup with both hands, Hermione began. "Yes, as much as it pains me to say, I'm afraid the board has intentions to perform an audit on the school."

Flashbacks to Delores Umbridge's tyrannical reign at Hogwarts rushed through her, and Minerva took off her spectacles and pinched the bridge of her nose to stifle the headache she knew would be coming. A moment of silence passed before Hermione offered her reassurances. "I know this sounds disastrous, but it's honestly not as awful as it sounds," she reached for a folder in her bag and handed it to her former professor. It felt odd, after so long, for their roles to be a bit reversed.

Minerva opened the folder after adorning her spectacles once more and began to read as Hermione explained what was going to happen over the course of the next…three months? Surely she had read that incorrectly. "There was an anonymous complaint filed that passed through my Department. It seemed a bit off to me initially, and I couldn't identify the credibility of the source, so I recommended that we file the complaint and follow-up if any additional ones were to have passed through."

The Headmistress felt a big 'however' coming her way after Hermione's explanation and was not disappointed when she continued. "However, the board directed a full investigation, to be vetted by my department, headed by myself." She paused to see if there was anything that would hint as to what was racing through her former professor's mind, but her gaze was steely as it had ever been. "I'm not sure what their intentions are, Headmistress, but I can assure you that this is not routine."

Having read enough, Minerva closed the folder and sipped her tea again. It was going to be a long day. "From my experience with the board of governors, the only routine I've seen is one that includes fulfilling their own whimsy," she retorted, her brogue becoming more evident relative to her irritation.

"Please don't misunderstand me, Minerva," Hermione internally gawked at how strange it felt to hear that name come from her lips for the first time. "While I agree that the board has always been a bit staunch and unreasonable in their demands, this is something else entirely." She searched the stoic façade once more, hoping to find some crack to slip into to assure the Headmistress that she would do everything within her power to protect the integrity of the school. Seeing little, she tried a different approach. "Minerva, there's something I want you to know-"

Minerva held up a hand, signaling Hermione to pause. "Hermione, if you are going to give me a speech about how you wish to dedicate your loyalties to me and this school, I'll have none of it," she crossed her arms and leaned forward on her desk slightly. "You are a Ministry Department Head, and I trust your professionalism in its entirety. My concerns surrounding the complaint will be treated with serious regard, and I promise you will have our full cooperation in any way you will need."

Hermione couldn't have been more relieved at her initial reaction, but she knew that Minerva's patience would be tried for the amount of time the Ministry was requesting she spearhead the investigation. "I expected no less, Minerva, and I am truly apologetic at the idea that the Ministry will be present for such a long period."

"Never you worry, Hermione. I am fully confident that the welfare of this school is in good health, and as such, the Ministry can observe for as long as they wish," Minerva replied. "Just as long as they do not interfere with the education of this body of students." She refilled Hermione's cup as well as her own as they moved on to the next course of business with ease.

Hermione responded her thanks. "You have my word," she promised. "We will be specifically looking at two areas whilst here," she glanced over her own notes. "The current employment practices regarding the house-elves, and the centaurs and their sanctuary on these grounds."

The fire cackled softly as the flames began to dwindle. A muffled 'pop' echoed in the Headmistress' office as Minerva's house-elf, Aila, appeared to stoke and replace the logs. "Good morning, mistress," she greeted, tending to the fire, aloof to the guest that Minerva was currently entertaining.

"And also to you," Minerva returned. "I'm glad you are here, Aila, there's someone I would like to introduce you to."

The house-elf looked up with wide eyes, clearing her hands on her traditional tea towel. "My apologies mistress, I did not know you were having guests this morning." Shoulders hunched shyly, she quickly made her way to where the Hermione and the Headmistress were seated.

Hermione quickly stood to shake the elf's small hand, dwarfed by even her own petite grip. Minerva didn't miss a beat as the two greeted each other. "Aila, this is Hermione Weasley, Head of the Department of-"

Aila needed no further introductions to Hermione Weasley; she was, after all, nationally recognized among the masses of house-evles across the UK. "Mistress, Aila knows who Hermione Weasley is. There isn't one of us here who doesn't know of all she does," she smiled.

Hermione returned the smile and released the elf's hand. "It's very nice to meet you, Aila, and I'm sure the pleasure will be all mine in the near future." Aila looked perturbed by Hermione's statement and peered with her large eyes to her mistress.

"Hermione will be here on behalf of the Ministry to ensure that your well-being is being properly attended to, Aila." The house-elf looked up at Hermione wearily and then back to her mistress, understanding that 'the near future' could prove very taxing on her and her fellow elves.

Hermione glanced up at Minerva, following Aila's stare, and the Headmistress contracted to sigh. This was going to be a long day, indeed.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Sorry about the format issue! Hopefully it is fixed. As I said previously, this is a slow-paced start, but it is due to pick up over the next couple chapters. For those of you who believe this will be a quick MMHG romance-laden fic, I will apologize now. In order to keep the integrity of their relationship, I truly believe it needs careful development. But I promise it will all be worth the wait. :) Enjoy and drop a note; good, bad, or ugly!

Hallowed Ground, Ch 2

By barely ten o'clock, Minerva McGonagall was sure she hadn't felt more ready for a stiff drink since the second war come to its close. Hermione's words had left deep impressions in her mind already, leaving marks similar to freshly moved furniture on a thick canvas of carpet.

Charming the drizzle that had created a damp sheen on her robes, Minerva did not delay in her steps back to her office. A determined click followed her deliberate cadence, catching the attention of her Deputy along the way, even from inside his classroom. Momentarily deciding that he owed Minerva a visit after lunch, he turned back to his supervision of third years busily scratching away what he was sure was to be dismal exams on levitation charms.

By the time Minerva had reached her office, Albus' portrait was just beginning to stir. Wandlessly summoning a tumbler and reaching for a bottle tucked away in her bottom right drawer, Minerva sat hastily and perched her chin in her hand, long fingers drumming her cheek in thought.

"The McGonagall Reserve, at this hour, Minerva?" Albus peered over his spectacles. "I dare say you've had a rough start," he observed the Headmistress as she removed her own glasses for the second time that day and rubbed her temples vigorously.

They were quite the sight, the pair of them. Albus was still in his stocking cap and pajamas, and Minerva looked as though she had been up all night battling a multitude of Peeves' mischief. "Such cheek after the morning I've endured could result in the permanent dismantling of your portrait, Albus," she retorted with a smirk, only half serious in her threats.

He looked down at his former Deputy and realized that he had missed out on more than he had anticipated in Hermione's meeting. "So what news from the Ministry?" he inquired.

Minerva sighed and dismissed the tumbler with another wave. "Hermione's preliminary meeting this morning was to inform me of a full-fledged investigation ordered by the board of governors," she replied, practically throwing the bottle back into its drawer. She refused to be defeated by the news, opting instead for more candid conversation with an old, trusted friend. "I've simply not time for this, Albus." A few of the other portraits began to perk up, pretending not to hear the musings between the two.

The former Headmaster frowned. "I'm well aware of your obligations, Headmistress," he began. "But what the Ministry could be after is worrisome."

"Yes, one would think they'd have learned their lesson the first time round," she shook her head, recalling her year spent in absolute agony when Fudge had last ordered his personnel to the school. "I am worried," she continued. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't, Albus," she whispered, folding her hands in her lap and gazing up at him.

He paused and took off his cap. "I'm afraid they aren't going to uncover much, although I'm terribly sorry to hear about the intrusion," he offered his best condolences.

Minerva got up from her chair and turned to his portrait, face to face with the only man she had truly admired since her father passed. "I'm afraid that they aren't going to uncover anything either," she gazed into his eyes. "I am hardly convinced that they've sent Hermione with plain intentions."

His eyes shone with the same depth of concern that matched the woman before him. "A ploy?" She broke their contact and moved to the window, arms folded behind her rigidly straight back.

"I'm not sure what they're seeking, Albus, but I trust that it isn't the welfare of the magical creatures of Hogwarts," she replied as she peered out onto the grounds, the scene of the newly developing foundations meeting her gaze.

Stretching beyond the edge of the wood of the Forbidden Forest laid the beginnings of plots of small, house-like structures, met deeper through the trees by what appeared to be vastly larger stable barns.

Hermione had returned back to the Ministry with mixed emotions after her meeting with the Headmistress. All in all, it had gone as best as it could have, given the circumstances. She trusted the integrity of Hogwarts explicitly and had felt that the entire operation would end in unsubstantiated findings. She couldn't quite press her finger to it, but something in her gut told Hermione that things were amiss amongst the board. Nevertheless, she was devout in her position and would respect their decision.

Even if she thought it was absolute bollocks.

She was interrupted in her thoughts by the arrival of the Minister himself knocking on her door before entering. "Good morning, Sir," she nodded and rose from her desk. Formalities were more of a necessity here than they were in the company of former professors.

"Morning," he replied as he removed his hat and sat it on her desk, seating himself as well. Following suit despite the oddity of an unplanned meeting with the Minister, Hermione again took up her chair. "I apologize for dropping in, as it were," he gestured. "I know your schedule is tight, so I'll make this short."

Hermione sat in slight anticipation, mostly out of curiosity. The Minister did not keep her in suspense. "I'm sure you're questioning the decision of the governors in regards to the investigation at Hogwarts," she swallowed, hoping that she hadn't allowed her own opinions to become too apparent. Recognizing her hesitation, Kingsley paused. "I've not paid you a visit this morning to berate you, Weasley," his deep voice was assuring. "But I need to make this very clear."

Hermione shifted in her seat slightly, uncomfortable with the notion that she was somehow not trusted to lead her department, even after almost twenty years. "You are to conduct this investigation to the standards of this institution," his stare pierced her, but her shoulders remained square. "Nothing more, nothing less," he finished.

Shackelbolt's well-seasoned department head began to interject, but he carried on, stretching his large hands across Hermione's desk. "This conversation is best suited for different venues, Weasley," he remarked dryly, dropping his head low and raising a brow at the younger witch. "While I trust your abilities and your prowess, this inquiry need not be delayed, for any reason."

Despite the bubbling thirst for answers that was so typical of Hermione, she took a deep breath through her nostrils and nodded at her long-time leader. Whatever information he couldn't disclose, she was able to put it aside for the time being. "Of course, Sir," she looked at him full on. "I will see to it that this investigation is closed precisely on schedule."

Kingsley flashed the slightest of smiles, noticeable only due to the contrast of his dark skin against the shine of his teeth. "A good day to you, Weasley," he grabbed his cap from the desk and moved to bid Hermione goodbye. "When do you return to set up the details of your stay?"

"On the 28th, I meet with the Headmistress to discuss housing arrangements," she rose from her desk once more to walk the Minister to the door. "And we will formally notify the staff as well."

"Very good, then," he tipped his cap as Hermione turned the knob on her office door. "I'll expect static follow-ups as necessary. Keep me abreast of any updates," he turned to exit the office, leaving a perplexed Hermione in the wake of his departure.

Lunch at Hogwarts had found the esteemed Headmistress absent from the Head Table. Her thoughts were rapid and scattered, an overwhelming abundance of scenarios playing out through her mind. Aila appeared in Minerva's office to find her mistress buried in her own notes on the morning's happenings. "Mistress," she greeted, placing a small offering of lighter fare on Minerva's desk, hoping she would pause to eat. Minerva hadn't departed her office since Hermione had left, and it was going on a quarter past two.

Breaking from her furious scratching, Minerva glanced at the plate, its presence barely registering as food. There were days in this position that she found herself able to press on solely fueled relative to the amount of the infamous green ink she could produce. It was a sight Aila and her brood were all too familiar with, and yet it never became less troubling.

"Thank you kindly, Aila. I've found myself rather too tied up to make it to the Great Hall today," she smiled at her faithful companion.

"It is our pleasure, Mistress," she bowed gracefully before disapparating with a snap.

Minerva rested her quill in the ink well, brushing a few wisps of hair from her face. In the moments immediately following Aila's departure, a soft knock clicked on the door of her office. "Enter," she clipped. She wasn't entirely convinced she had the patience for many more visitors today.

"We've missed you at lunch, Minerva," the Hogwarts Deputy announced, his voice laced with gentle mirth.

"Come now, Filius. Surely you jest," she bantered. Minerva rose from her desk and moved to the corner of the office where more comfortable seating was available. If she were to continue to endure lengthy conversation today, she would hope to avoid a stiffened back. She and her Deputy seated themselves as Minerva again mustered the energy to answer any questions surrounding the Ministry's 'visit.'

Filius smiled. "Well I can't speak for the whole staff, but I certainly noticed your absence," the Deputy remarked. "And I also made note of your hurried step this morning after Mrs. Weasley's departure. Is everything alright, Minerva?"

Minerva summoned the documents Hermione had left her, handing them over to Filius as she began to explain. "It seems there is to be an inquiry regarding the welfare of the population of magical creatures employed by the school," she cleared her throat. "There has been a complaint filed through the Ministry and the board has ordered a mandatory three-month observation, to be overseen by the current department head."

Thumbing through the pages and squinting at a few lines, Filius chimed in without looking up from the material. "So they're sending Hermione Weasley to lead the investigation? How strange," he mused.

"Indeed," Minerva agreed. "I am sure you'll not need an explanation as to why I am worried about the ordeal, Filius?"

Filius inhaled and eyed his long-time colleague. "A perfectly safe assumption, I'm afraid," he exhaled and sat the papers on the end table next to the armchair. "They've certainly got poor timing."

"And equally poor intelligence, it would seem," Minerva added. "No one outside of a handful of the staff here knows of the housing developments, Filius."

Despite the seriousness and uncertainty surrounding the matter, Filius couldn't help the chuckle as he shook his head. "The odds that their means of penetrating this school would coincide with our internal improvements on that very same issue are astronomical," the Deputy explained, resting his head to the side on two fingers at his temple. "Not to mention a level of irony only the board of governors could be capable of achieving."

Minerva nodded. "It's been far too long since I've had to deal with their idiocies, Filius. I'm afraid I'm a bit out of practice."

"I think there's more than just idiocy afoot," Filius stood. "Minerva, I believe it best if we start preparing for whatever they are actually here to find," he searched her face, looking for her agreement. Finding it, he probed further. "When does she return next?"

"Hermione will be here in two week's time, and I've suggested she stay here alone over the Christmas Holidays prior to the investigation's start," she replied, standing alongside her Deputy as they walked toward her office door. "I'll need to see how much she knows."

"Are you going to tell her of the developments?" he asked, placing his hand along the door. "I don't question her loyalty, even for a moment."

Minerva sighed. "It's not her loyalty I am worried about, Filius," the Headmistress whispered. "If we tell her, we may make her vulnerable against the board. I don't want to involve her any more than we need to." The chessboard began to develop itself, pieces already setting themselves into play.

"It's going to be difficult to shield her from the happenings inside her own organization if she doesn't know that she's been sent on a goose chase, Minerva," he countered.

"I'm all too aware," Minerva continued. "It will be a delicate matter to protect the very person that the Ministry has sent to open us up to potential attack. We've got about two months to figure out as much as we can, Filius," she explained gravely. "I'll need your help."

Filius nodded, ever ready to assist the Headmistress. "Anything you need, I am here," he assured her, placing her hand between his own. There weren't too many boundaries that their friendship knew.

And Minerva hadn't been as grateful for it as she was now in quite some time.


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione returned home at nine o'clock to find Hugo and Lily sleeping soundly on the trundle bed in his room. It had been one of the most mentally exhausting days she had experienced, and her mind hadn't stopped racing for a moment. Harry and Ron had been off on a raid since Sunday, leaving Hermione and Ginny to their own devices until tomorrow.

Tonight, with both their youngest children tucked into bed, their devices consisted of wine. Through the times that the boys were off on their operations, the two women had become even closer than they had found themselves during six years at school.

"Rough day, was it?" Ginny asked, noting Hermione having rather slumped her cloak off. She was seated on the sofa, going over some of her notes from the quidditch matches she had seen over the weekend, preparing them for her next article titled, "The Legacy." One of the professional women's coaches from Wales was retiring this year, leaving behind one of the winningest records in the history of the sport.

Hermione joined her there, helping herself to Ginny's glass of wine that had been sitting on the coffee table. "That obvious?"

Ginny had her head down in her notes and had reached for her glass. Grasping air instead of her stem, she looked up. "Hmm," Ginny objected. "I'd say so, you thief," she laughed, summoning another glass, as well as the bottle, from the kitchen.

Hermione smiled, which she had almost forgotten how to do today. "It was just awful, Gin," she crossed her legs and drank deeply. "There's something peculiar going on at work, and I think it could be quite the ordeal," she explained as Ginny poured her second glass. "Shacklebolt had some strange conversation with me today in my office, and I haven't had a moment of peace since."

"You're not the only one," Ginny interjected. "Harry's stag arrived today, just after you left for Hogwarts."

Hermione raised an eyebrow at her sister-in-law. "Go on," she pressed.

Ginny sighed, brushing a stray lock of red hair from her eyes. "He told me that they lost a senior auror this morning just outside of where their headquarters had been established for the raid."

"What happened?"

"They don't know," Ginny responded. "That's the strange part. They've been unable to identify the cause of death at the scene," she explained.

Hermione swallowed hard. "No magical trace?"

The younger witch shook her head. "Harry wasn't able to give me all the details, but it sounded like it was definitely magic. There were no marks on his body, and all scans for poisons or toxins came back negative," she whispered, careful not to wake the children with the conversation at hand.

"So if it was spell work, why weren't they able to identify it?" Hermione questioned further. Today, it would seem, was a day for curiousness.

Ginny handed Hermione her freshly filled glass. "Nothing worked," she stated matter-of-factly. "Harry and Ron are going straight to St. Mungo's with the body after they close operations tomorrow morning."

The two witches exchanged looks that reached depths beyond empathy. When Harry and Ron were out in the field, news was sparse. Harry occasionally sent word, but only as he could. They were highly encouraged to not communicate at all, but Ginny worried when she didn't hear from them at least once a mission. "It'll be good to have them back," Hermione stated honestly.

Ginny nodded her agreement and raised the glass to her lips, polishing off its contents. She kicked one of her legs onto the sofa and cradled her head on her hand, resting on the arm. It was silent for a moment before a yawn broke the stillness.

Covering her mouth with the back of her hand, Hermione stretched. "I can't thank you enough for watching Hugo during the day," she stated graciously. Ginny was great with the youngest of the Weasley children.

Both women rose from their seats, beginning to straighten up the area they had been in. Hermione took the glasses and wine back into the kitchen, and Ginny neatly stacked all her papers into her briefcase. "It's really no problem," Ginny replied. "He's got so much character that I don't find much time to be bored during the day," she added.

Hermione stood in the doorway and folded her arms gently, sleep starting to take her. "I'm glad he and Lily get on so well," she smiled.

Ginny took her briefcase under her arm and moved to bid Hermione goodnight. "They do, really," she embraced the older witch. "It makes my heart smile."

"Mine too," Hermione agreed, squeezing Ginny a little tighter. They separated and parted ways, Hermione moving to her bedroom and Ginny to the guest room. "Good night, Gin," Hermione whispered.

"Night, Hermione," she replied, closing the door behind her.

* * *

Ron and Harry sat impatiently in the St. Mungo's waiting area. Both men were tired and haggard looking, despite having shaved and dressed in fresh robes for the first time since they'd been in the field. Aside from the death of one of their senior aurors, Harry had closed the mission with little trouble. Despite their team's success, the two men were feeling extensively drained. Losing an auror never got easier, and they hadn't suffered a loss in years.

They'd had orders to go into Dover, the first mission that had kept them in country for over six months. It was a defense-based mission to establish perimeter wards on the southeastern coastal city. When Harry had been briefed by the Minister, he'd been told that an encounter was unlikely, and that the sole interest of the ministry was to separate the city and its rural area into quadrants. Each grid would be equipped with enchantments that would alert them to future enemy presence.

Now assessing the situation in hindsight, Harry was unconvinced that he'd received all the details prior to their departure for Dover. His mind ticked in time with the clock in the waiting room, his breathing long and quiet. A strong feeling in his gut told him the ministry had been watching the port city longer than they had let on…and that they knew someone had been there.

The question in Harry's mind was who that someone was.

 _The lightning flashed and the sirens began to scream, rain beating down on Harry's shoulders in the fourth grid. He looked back in the direction the sirens were sounding, from the grid they had established as headquarters. "Get back to the tent!" he shouted over the sounds affronting their ears as five bodies disappeared into the dark._

 _One by one they reappeared in the first grid, wands at the ready and eyes searching the darkness frantically. With a 'crack' masked by the thunder overhead, Ron apparated and counted the lights emanating from each wand in the squad._

 _Three. All accounted for._

 _Harry appeared behind him as they stood back-to-back, peering out into the grid. The only thing they could see was the shine of the rain falling around the tips of their wands. "We're all here, Harry," Ron relayed. "It's all clear."_

 _His breathing was quick, hesitant to agree with the all-clear. He couldn't make out much except the outline of the tent, as all the lights had been extinguished by whoever had tripped the alarms. "We need to surround the tent," he replied, his breath frosting slightly in the chill of the autumn storm. "They could still be here."_

 _Ron released the signal from his wand, a faint yellow orb arcing from its tip. Immediately, the remaining three aurors swiftly enclosed upon the tent as Harry and Ron completed the circle around their base of operations. The lightning split once more, and Harry caught a glimpse of a body lying on the ground, rain shining off his black coat and skin eerily white against the flash that had streaked the sky._

"Potter," the healer called, interrupting his thoughts. Ron and Harry got up from their seats and followed him through the doors.

"I'm healer Alderman," the older wizard clipped, offering his hand to first Harry, then Ron.

Harry nodded his head. "Good morning, Sir," he greeted politely. "What news of Marksbury?" he asked as they wove their way through an extensive mass of corridors.

Alderman passed his gaze from the two aurors down to the floor, scratching his head beneath the cap. "It would behoove us to hold our conversation until we reach the office, gentlemen," he stated plainly, looking back to Harry. "This way."

The three of them continued on past ward after ward, until they reached an access hall that required the healer to place his hand into a small chamber to the right of the door.

A moment later, the doors opened, leaving Harry and Ron to glance questioningly at each other. But Alderman didn't slow his pace, leading the two onward through a part of St. Mungo's they'd never before set foot in. "This is a classified hall in our hospital," they continued, slipping past healers in dark gray robes that eyed the three of them curiously. "We don't often have visitors this side of the ward," he explained.

They arrived at a small office, and the door slid open as Alderman strolled through, Harry and Ron close behind. The healer seated himself at the desk in the center of the room and ushered the two to join him. 'ROOM 478 IS NOW SECURE.' A female voice was heard throughout the space as the doors closed behind them.

Ron and Harry seated themselves as worry began to sink into Harry's chest. "So, I'm assuming you've brought us here because there's something wrong with Marksbury's autopsy," Harry began, not wanting to delay the morning anymore. He was thoroughly exhausted and anxious.

Alderman picked up on Harry's need for urgency. "Yes, your assumption proves most deductive of you, Mr. Potter," the healer removed his cap and sat it on the desk. "Marksbury's death has been currently coded as acute heart failure, but I'm afraid the exact cause cannot be determined by any of the staff here at St. Mungo's."

"So what's next for the body?" Ron questioned. "We've got his family to notify, you know," he added.

Alderman looked from Harry to Ron and sighed. "We can't release the body until cause of death has been determined, gentlemen," he answered, his voice gaining slight volume.

Ron shook his head and rested his chin on his knuckles. "So if you can't determine the cause, who can, Sir?" Harry asked, aware of Ron's understandable agitation. "We've never run into this situation before."

The healer opened his desk drawer and pulled out a recently compiled folder on Marksbury's autopsy. He opened it, pulling out a single document. "This is a release form, Mr. Potter," he explained as he handed it to Harry. "I suggest you sign it, as our deceased Mr. Marksbury will need to make a trip to our counterparts in Germany."

"Germany? Are you mad?" Ron stood from his chair, but Harry grabbed his arm. Ron had always been passionate about the team, and Marksbury's death was taking its toll on him.

"Yes, Mr. Weasley, Germany," he continued calmly as Harry convinced him to retake his seat. "This is simply beyond any expertise or resources we have available here, and I've already spoken to the lead over there via floo this morning."

"I'll sign it," Harry whispered, defeat lacing his response. "Have you got a quill?"

Alderman opened his drawer once more and gave the quill to Harry. He scratched his name at the bottom of the release form and stood immediately. "We need answers," Harry stood, Ron joining him as the healer kept in his chair. "And we need them soon."

Without another word, Harry and Ron departed the office, leaving Alderman behind. "Thanks, Harry," Ron looked to his best friend. "I can just imagine the look on Pippa's face," he said, voice breaking from the swell of hot tears threatening to emerge. Pippa was Marksbury's wife, now widowed after less than a year of marriage.

Harry placed a firm hand on Ron's shoulder. "We'll get his body back, Ron," Harry assured him. "And we're going to find out who is responsible for this."

Ron wiped the moisture from his eyes and stood a little straighter, a determined square gracing his shoulders. "Yeah," Ron agreed, clearing his throat. "I suppose we will."

They caught each other's glance and the two men nodded. "Right," Harry breathed, scanning the corridors for some familiarity. "Now how do we get out of here?"

 _AN: Hope you've enjoyed the chapter. You've been getting pieces and parts of the plot, and I look forward to everyone's thoughts on what might happen! As always, do drop a note in the reviews. I'm *dying* not just spilling what's actually going on in the story. Love to all and a Happy New Year! You may see another update from me before then. ;)_


	4. Chapter 4

AN: This chapter is a little shorter than its predecessors, but it has been a trying two weeks for my wife and me. This chapter was really difficult to write, as I've been on an emotional rollercoaster, and focus has been hard to come by. I've gone back and re-written a lot of this chapter, spending a little more time developing the familial aspect of Ron and Hermione's life.

Dedicated to our Lost Little Sprout. We love you, bunches and bunches...tons and tons.

* * *

Hermione had returned home from work earlier than the day prior, anxious to see Ron. She'd spent all day prepping her papers for the observation at Hogwarts, her meeting with the Headmistress due in just twelve days time. Hermione's feelings were split into a definite dichotomy-she was dreading having to perform an inquiry at the school she held so dearly; however, she was, in some way, overwhelmed by a sense of nostalgia. In less than a fortnight, Hermione would be revisiting the very place that gave her essence at such a young age.

Her feelings of unsettledness dissipated when she walked through the door and saw Ron and Hugo playing on the floor in their living room. Uncle Charlie had gifted him a train set that required some fatherly assistance to set up, but Hugo could watch the train for hours on end. He hardly batted an eye when his mother walked in, too engrossed in watching the steam roll from the top of the engine as it glided around the tracks.

Ron, however, did take notice of his wife's arrival. Leaving Hugo entranced in front of the fireplace, he rushed to greet Hermione. A few tendrils of hair had escaped during the bustle of her day, and they framed her face softly. Her eyes were rimmed lighter, the color of warm honey seeping from the outside to meet pools of deeper brown in the center.

"It's so good to have you home," Hermione whispered, eyes searching his face, taking it in anew. His gaze met her own, and Ron was lost to all thought as her soft lips collided with his, the product of their separation uprooting any chance for gentler regards. He wove his arms round her waist, grasping the small of her back with the same need that smoldered inside him. As Ron quickly brought them closer, the air escaped Hermione's chest, and she looped her arms around his neck.

Their lips crashed against each other in a muddled sense of opposition, hers bringing life to his rougher ones like cool showers on arid earth. His tongue slipped through his parted lips, begging passage. But Hermione placed her hands on his chest, breaking the kiss far sooner than either would have liked. There would be time for candid moments soon, but Hermione would not allow her arousal to overcome her. Her eyes passed from Ron's to where Hugo was still distracted on the floor, and Ron begrudgingly adjusted himself.

Hermione smiled at her husband and kissed him on the cheek as she swept across the room to scoop up her son. "Mummy missed you today," she breathed, lips pressed into his hair. Ron joined them and wrapped his arms around the pair of them, feeling a sense woeful jubilation pass over him. This is what would cease to be between Edmond and Pippa.

* * *

Later that evening found Ron and Hermione comfortably woven into their blankets. They had put Hugo to bed at eight and made for their room shortly after. It was now going on ten o' clock, the pair completely enervated by the happenings of the last two hours.

"So, what have I missed?" Ron asked, rolled over on his side to actually _speak_ with his wife, propping his head in his palm. "Which lesser fortunate lives will you be rescuing this week, 'Mione?"

Hermione couldn't help but smile, but smacked him on the chest just the same. "I hope you don't mean to undermine my work, Ronald," she jested, fully aware that he saw her passion as equal to his own. Her smile faded slightly as the uneasy feelings regarding the next inquiry crept into her mind. "Actually, I'll be at Hogwarts soon."

Ron quirked an eyebrow. "Really? Hmm," he frowned. "What on earth has Shacklebolt got on his plate now?" Ron questioned rhetorically as Hermione shrugged. "He's got too many irons in the fire as it is-man's got to learn the power of the word 'no.'"

"The minister's not ordered this one, Ron," Hermione explained. "The board intervened, and now I've got to spend three months-" she was interrupted.

" _Three months?_ " he asked as his eyes widened. "What could they possibly expect that could need _three months?"_ Ron continued, eyes darting in realization. "You mean you'll be gone for-"

It was Hermione's turn to chime in. "Yes, Ron," she sighed. " _Three months,"_ Hermione finished in a playful, mocking tone.

"Blimey, Hermione," Ron rolled over on his back and gazed at the ceiling. "When do you start?"

Hermione found her way through the sheets and rested her head on Ron's chest. "I'm to return for a logistical meeting with McGonagall on the 28th, and all the details will be sorted then."

"Ole' McG," Ron shook his head with a crooked smile. "How is she then?"

Hermione drifted off into thought, sighing through her nose. "She hasn't changed a bit, Ron," she raised her brows at the realization. "She's just as I remember," Hermione mused, deeper in her own thoughts than she'd been all day.

"I hope she'll get on better with the Ministry around than she did last time," Ron chortled. "Gave Umbridge a damn good scare, didn't she?"

 _"Ronald Weasley!"_ Hermione chided in her best 'Molly' voice. "How _dare_ you liken me to that foul excuse of a woman!"

* * *

Minerva had slept so little in the last two nights that even her glamour charms were beginning to lose their effect. On the eve after Hermione's departure, the Headmistress had spent the greater part of the night calculating…weighing each decision against its respective outcome.

If she made Hermione aware of the housing developments outright, she would undoubtedly become immediately suspicious of the board and the Ministry. The younger witch was far too clever to merely guffaw at that which Minerva and Filius had too been unable to accept-coincidence. Hermione would then push back on the Ministry as well as the board, putting her in a dangerous situation, as Minerva had yet no information as to who or what could be at play. On the other hand, the Headmistress would quickly rid herself of the board's probing if Hermione was determined to end the investigation.

The housing developments themselves weren't necessarily secretive, but Minerva had decided early on in the planning that re-homing many of the elves onto the grounds would have been moot were they not to give each of the clans their own wards to shield them against the public eye. She'd stitched the land between the edge of the grounds that bordered the forest, knowing that the majority of that area was rarely visited by students or staff. This would give the elves a haven to grow their families in their service to the school, something that many of them knew nothing of.

Most of the clans of elves that had sent word to Minerva seeking refuge were fleeing persecution in their own countries. House elves were born into servitude, and many of the clans had begun to grow their family lines in secret, hoping to end their debts to their masters in their own death. The practice had grown so large in some areas of Europe that many of them were beginning to be discovered. Service at Hogwarts meant many a thing to the bands of rogues. They would be fulfilling their duty to be tied to a servitude, but they would be free to choose if they would stay at Hogwarts or serve with a different family after three years. Minerva, who would not have taken advantage of their despair, had guaranteed their freedom to live openly, safe on the grounds of Hogwarts.

If she shielded Hermione against the expansion and developments, Minerva would be afforded the opportunity to gather details about the infiltration, as the investigation would then stretch on for months. However, this path led to the possibility of breeches by the board, which could open the school to potential hazard. With all of the variables being unknown, Minerva was hesitant on either count…The range of hazard was quite broad, and as the steward of Hogwarts, the Headmistress had shuddered against the thought that her decision could lead to the endangerment of any one of the students or staff.

Her thoughts in silence were offset only by the mild crunching that echoed inside Minerva's own head, temples pulsing as she mindlessly chewed her biscuit. Consumption of food during the last two days had been as nonexistent as sleep, both becoming unfamiliar territory to her. Minerva had battled herself tirelessly, as if entangled in an unwinnable game of chess with her own conscious.

A familiar _'pop'_ disengaged her thinking. "Good morning, Mistress," Aila greeted simply. "Shall we be fixing your breakfast today?"

Minerva threw her gaze immediately to the clock, which showed a quarter past seven. "No, Aila, I'm afraid I haven't time this morning," she quickly drew herself from her desk, willing herself awake. "But I should be eternally grateful if a pot of tea were to somehow appear in my quarters by seven thirty," Minerva smirked, readying herself to make leave for her personal rooms. Before she made haste through the door, she turned back. "And a good morning to you as well, Aila."

The small elf stood in the wake of her mistress' departure, smiling gently before herself disappearing with a snap of long fingers.

* * *

Despite the threat of a Saturday staff meeting looming overhead, Minerva lingered in the shower. She needed to come to a preliminary decision so that she could speak to Pomona and Filius after the meeting. Her mind raced furiously, mellowed only by the stream of hot water down her back. Minerva's brain was as foggy as her bathroom had become over the course of the last twenty minutes.

Steam caressed her skin, veiling Minerva in a shroud of warm mist. She exhaled. Tilting her head to the right allowed the water to run down the side of her neck. The heat brought a welcome sense of relaxation amongst the fog, and she groaned slightly as her muscles stretched under the flow of the water.

Minerva could feel herself coming ever closer to the precipice of solution, only to be drawn away by the threat of danger she imagined upon faceless students, close friends, and Hermione. The flash of deep brown eyes brought her abruptly back out of thought, truly hearing the water running for the first time since she'd stepped into the shower.

Realizing the lack of sleep was driving her to the edge of delirium, Minerva turned off the water, filing a note in the back of her mind to sleep once she had this mess sorted.

AN: We will jump forward a couple days in the next chapter, and then a couple weeks into the future. Pieces are going to start stitching themselves together! Drop a note, feedback is immensely helpful! :)


	5. Chapter 5

AN:Soooooo long since I've updated. Enjoy the chappie! Really excited to start watching this one develop. :)

* * *

"It would seem we've most of the details unraveled," the Headmistress gathered her notes from the meeting. "I concur with Professor Sinistra's suggestion that we keep the festivities on the lesser formal side this year," Minerva inwardly breathed a sigh of relief, as her fellow colleagues would not be striving to outdo the years prior.

A round of nods passed the room, and everyone shuffled their belongings, anxious to be engaged in other happenings on a Saturday. Minerva stayed seated, and her Deputy caught her eyes, immediately aware that he and Pomona would need to delay their afternoon activities as well.

A handful of stragglers finally made their way from the meeting on the upcoming Halloween festivities, which had always been a sound tradition at Hogwarts. This year's celebrations would include music and an open hall after dinner, which was entertaining for the students and relatively low-stress for the staff. There was always the occasional mischief, but no one had yet come to rival the Weasley twins…Minerva hoped it would stay that way.

Filius and Pomona turned their attention to their Headmistress, a small breath of anticipation in their lungs. Minerva looked tired, even behind her glamour. "Filius, have you spoken with Pomona since our last meeting?" she asked, exhausted by the idea of having to explain the situation once more.

The Deputy nodded. "I hope it wasn't too forward of me to assume that it would be advised, Minerva," he replied quietly.

Pomona exhaled and sat back in her chair slightly. "So what to do about Hermione, hmm?" she inquired. "I daresay you've given this ample thought, judging from your haggard exterior."

Minerva raised a single eyebrow at Pomona's comment. Had they not been fast friends since their days at Hogwarts, Minerva would have taken slight offense. "Yes, well, it is rather…involved," she sighed.

"It's far from simple, but I don't see too much damage to be done," Pomona offered. Filius nodded his agreement quietly, calmly observing two of the most important women in his life.

"I would love nothing more than to agree with you, but I'm not convinced of anything at this point," she countered, her brogue cutting through as tiredness gained on her.

Pomona eyed her well-respected friend closely…Something was amiss-more than just the debacle with the Ministry. "Well, well, Minerva…It would seem we have a serious issue at hand," she grinned slyly. Filius passed his glance from his wife, to Minerva, and back again to his wife. "It's out of your control," she finished plainly.

Minerva glared. "Well of course it's out of my control, Pomona. This is the Ministry we are talking about-not a group of first years!"

"To hell with the board and the Ministry, Minerva," she waved in a nonchalant fashion. "I'm talking about Hermione."

* * *

The next twelve days had proved more draining than any Minerva could remember since the Carrows had roamed the halls. Pomona's words lingered, rooting themselves inside the recesses of her mind.

It was painfully true-Minerva had never transitioned with her pupils. To the Headmistress, there was no such thing as a "former student." There was only student, and a relationship that was fiercely protective. If she were honest with herself, she would admit that they had shaped her over the years just as much as she had molded them…But it was something that Minerva only experienced after allowing herself to take it in.

So she found herself at a complicated juncture. Naturally Minerva understood that Hermione was a brilliant mind, but a mind that had always respected the boundaries of authority. But Hermione was different...her mind belonged entirely to herself, untouched by the current and presence of 'greater power.'

Minerva resigned to believe that to solve this problem, she would have to dissolve this problem. She could account for every detail except one…All her calculations would be for naught, because Hermione was not a constant in any equation. The time had come for equal grounds, and Minerva was filled with an unyielding desire for all of this to be over. This would take herculean efforts by the Headmistress, and she was unsure where to begin in this wildly unfamiliar territory.

Despite her fawn-like legs, Minerva pressed on in her meeting with Hermione with cautious ease. The 28th had arrived, and they found themselves once more in Minerva's office. "Thus far, I've no real trepidations, but I am anxious to re-familiarize myself prior to the start," Hermione had just finished updating Minerva on the timeline over a cup of tea and a few biscuits.

Minerva's nostrils flared against her own will, the inward tension about sharing information with Hermione subconsciously escaping. "Well, I don't mean to impose upon your or the Minister's judgment," Hermione shook her head. "But if I've any say in the matter, I shall like to suggest that February would be ideal for myself and the staff."

Hermione made a note on her outline, nodding as Minerva continued. "It is long enough after break so that the students are settled, but far enough away from exams," she exhaled.

"February should suit just fine, Minerva," Hermione smiled, shuffling her papers together.

The Headmistress returned the smile, becoming more comfortable as the minutes passed. Feeling brave, she extended the younger witch an invitation. "Hermione, as you may or may not know, we have some festivities planned on Saturday."

Hermione's ears perked up. "It would be our pleasure to have you as a chaperone, if you would care to join us." Chestnut curls bounced as she looked up at Minerva in surprise. "To mingle with the staff, of course…There's no reason that this whole process," she waved her hands "can't be amicable."

"I'd be delighted, Minerva. I actually go to pick up Rose's dress after my departure," she responded, eyes glowing.

Inwardly, Hermione wished that every business venture could start in such a manner. But it wasn't every day that Minerva McGonagall played your host.

* * *

In the Alley, Hermione realized that she had not a thing in her wardrobe to suit such an occasion. She eyed Rose's order-a fuller knee-length dress that belled at the hem shimmered a fair blue in the sunshine peeking in through the shop window.

"Quite charming, that one," the shop owner commented, reviewing the order with Hermione over the counter. "Haven't seen anything catch light like that in many a year at this store."

"I don't suppose you've got anything as _charming_ in my size in the shop?"

The owner eyed Hermione up and down, faced scrunched in an examining manner. She returned her eyes to Hermione's. "Well, not anything as demure, but I've got a few stunning options that might suit your taste."

* * *

Harry had just finished his third quick lunch of the week, anticipating an owl from St. Mungo's any day. He swung the door to his office closed, spotting an envelope on his desk. He practically sprinted over to open it, tearing the Mungo's seal as he ripped the parchment out.

 _Mr. Potter,_

 _The coroner from our partner organization has requested Floo appointment with you today, two o' clock your time._

 _Please make yourself available-he made it seem rather urgent._

 _V/R,_

 _R. Aldermann,_

 _Healer, St. Mungo's_

Harry unfastened his outer robe and threw it on his chair hastily. He pulled a memo from his desk drawer, scribing a note to Ron to meet him in 45 minutes. The clock had just chimed one.

The memo zoomed out of his office, having just folded in on itself into the shape of a paper plane. It took about five minutes for Ron's reply to come back. He was stuck in a refresher session with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to keep his credentials current, but would be there as soon as he could.

Harry spent the next 40 minutes in his office pacing back and forth, much like he had seen Dumbledore do many a time on the Marauder's Map, until suddenly the flames in his grate began to crackle.

A rounder, young face appeared in the flames. "Herr Potter?"

Harry quirked any eyebrow, wondering how anyone could mispronounce his name. "Yes," he answered, squaring himself up in front of the fire. "I'm here."

The younger man exhaled, smoke and ash billowing from his mouth. "Very good," he stated, his German accent greeting Harry's ears. He had completely forgotten that the partner organization was in Germany, and he suddenly flushed around his neck. Mr. Potter, not Harry Potter, was how he had been greeted. "I vood like fery much to explain you, dat dis accident is…fery strange."

"Yes, Mr. err-Sorry, didn't catch your name?"

"My excuze, Herr Potter. I am to be called Herr Achenbach," he introduced himself as best he could. "Your ehm…Colleague, Herr Marksbury, arrive here about two week ago."

Harry pulled up a chair. "Yes, go on."

Mr. Achenbach glanced around, seemingly searching for the right words. "Vell, he vos not made dead by any…normal vestern magic. I haf made myself to look in…ehm…very olden books, Herr Potter."

"And these old books, Mr. Achenbach," Harry scooted closer. "What exactly did they say?"

"From vot I can see, your colleague has been made dead by fery ancient power…ehm…Most likely it is olden Jutsu from Japan, but I cannot to be made certain about…specific types."

"I see," Harry lied. He understood next to nothing about what Mr. Achenbach was telling him. "Well, is there anything else that you know? This…Jutsu…Marksbury had no markings on his body-"

"Ahhh…Yes. I can send to you a copy of vot I have read, Herr Potter. Jutsu is ehm…fery complicated to understand."

"All good, then. Yes, if you don't mind." Despite having received information, Harry was now more anxious than he had been before this appointment. The meeting had given rise to more questions than it had succeeded to answer. "And his body?"

"Ve can make an arrangement to haf it sent back to St. Mungo's, if you so wish yourself," Mr. Achenbach explained, a puff of smoke escaping the grate every time he sounded with the letter 'h.'

"Yes, that would be advised, Mr. Achenbach," Harry spoke clearly, signaling the end of the conversation. "Thank you, for all you've done."

Mr. Achenbach nodded curtly before disappearing through the floo, the flames rescinding.

Harry sat in his chair, gazing aimlessly into the hearth where Mr. Achenbach's face had been just moments before. Inhaling sharply and collecting his thoughts, he stood determinedly and left in the direction of the owlery.

He needed to call in a favor, hoping that Hermione was still in the vicinity of the Hogwarts library. He pulled a large coin from his pocket in the shape of a galleon, checking the time on his pocket watch. It was a quarter to the hour.

Harry changed the date and time on the coin so that it reflected the current day and three o'clock, precisely fifteen minutes from now. The coin was something that Harry, Ron, and Hermione had continued to use, even after the disillusionment of the D.A.

Scribbling frantically, wishing he had a quick-notes quill, Harry finished his letter and laid it in the beak of one of the Ministry's owls. "Headmistress of Hogwarts."

* * *

Hermione had just stepped out into the main street of Diagon Alley when she began to feel a pronounced heat in her pocket. Shuffling the sacks and boxes around in her arms, she rummaged around until she pulled out her D.A. coin, which was radiating heat.

Flipping it over, she realized Harry needed her at the Ministry in…she checked her watch. Ten minutes! She disapparated on the spot, picturing the façade of the Ministry's headquarters.

When she finally got inside and up to Harry's office, she heaved the boxes and bags onto an open chair. He was nowhere in sight, and she checked her watch again. It was now three o'clock, and she pursed her lips in slight frustration, tinged with a slight pang of worry.

Just as she was pouring herself a glass of water to busy her hands, she heard Ron and Harry's voices in rushed conversation as the door opened.

"Glad to see you still carry your coin, Hermione."

"One of my better ideas, I suppose," Hermione grinned, hugging Ron as they stepped in. "What's the occasion?"

"Harry just flooed with some Oakenboat fellow."

"Achenbach," Harry corrected.

"Yeah…What he said. We found out what happened to Marksbury."

Hermione looked from Ron to Harry, as if to confirm. "And?"

"Well, we found out the name of what happened to Marksbury," he added. "We just don't know what it is, exactly."

Her left eyebrow arched and threatened to fly from her face in puzzlement. Between both of them, she was growing more confused with each word. "Do either of you care to elaborate?"

Harry shook his head in frustration. "It's some old magic from Japan, but we know next to nothing, other than its name."

Hermione frowned. "I see. Why the rush, though?" She opened her palm, gesturing to the coin.

"Harry was hoping you were still at Hogwarts to go pilfering through the library," Ron chimed in. "He sent an owl to McGonagall."

"Well I'll be back there in two days," Hermione replied, sipping her water. "Is that soon enough? I'm sure she's got enough on her plate as it is."

Ron looked at her quizzically. "I didn't think you were due to start for a couple months at Hogwarts…"

"I'll explain later, Ron," she responded with a clip.

A memo buzzed into the room, breaking up their disheveled conversation. It smacked into the back of Harry's head. Picking it from the ground, he read it. "Let's walk and talk. McGonagall's response has just arrived."

They left toward the owlery, following Harry's quick steps.

* * *

AN: Until next time (which hopefully won't be eons.) ...Drop a note, if you would. Love hearing from all of you! :)


	6. Chapter 6

AN: Quick update! For those of you worrying about the lack of MMHG interaction, this chapter is for you. Let me know how you're feeling about it. :)

* * *

"Looks like you and the Headmistress are on the same page, Hermione," Harry stated, glancing over the green ink. "She's said she'll have the books ready for your next return."

Harry handed her the letter, and Hermione smiled as she read. There was _something_ about that green ink that was inseparable from her identity. It was where the real discovery of herself had begun, and no matter the circumstances, that green ink would always resonate. She scrolled down to the post-script at the bottom.

 _Mrs. H. Weasley,_

 _I will have what is available here for you on Saturday._

 _Until then,_

 _Minerva M. McGonagall_

 _Headmistress, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

Hermione quirked at the discontinuance of her given name, but dwindled on it little. Harry and Ron were still discussing Marksbury's body and what any of this could possibly be.

"Honestly, you two," Hermione turned to them. "There's not much to talk about until we get more information on the subject."

Ron rubbed the back of his neck. "Suppose you were his wife, Hermione. Wouldn't you want answers?"

Harry himself could feel the sting of the slap across Ron's face, wincing at the sound. "Don't. You. Dare!" she shouted.

Shoulders shaking, Hermione's mind reeled. The thought of losing Ron was always there, lurking in the back of her mind. The loss of one of their squad had hit her closer than she had realized. The idea of being Pippa, even for a moment, was too much for Hermione to take in.

Tears threatening to fall, Hermione turned out of the owlery and made her way back to her office, closing the door behind her.

 _How could he be so insensitive? Did he think she didn't know about how dangerous things were? That she didn't care about Marksbury and his family?_

Hermione's choked sobs echoed of the walls of her office. She sniffed hard, willing her breathing to steady.

She exhaled through her mouth deeply. Ron could be so infuriating! Emotions on edge, Hermione hadn't realized that she had crumpled the letter from Minerva inside her balled fists. Laying it flat on her desk and smoothing out its creased edges, Hermione gave her best effort to focus on Saturday.

Saturday meant progress.

Saturday meant answers.

Saturday meant returning to Hogwarts.

* * *

Saturday crept upon the Headmistress all too quickly. Magic was a wonderful thing, but the staff was still looking a bit more worn than usual by the time the Great Hall was set up.

Minerva was dressed in her high-collar emerald dress robes, accented with black trim. Seated at the head table, Filius and Pomona to her right, Minerva sat rigid as a plank, as if anticipating mischief. She leaned in and down to her Deputy, who was gesturing to the entryway.

Rose Weasley had just walked into the Hall, dressed in a beautiful blue dress.

But it was woman to her right that had caused Minerva's eyes to widen.

Hermione's figure was trimmed in a soft black dress that fit her at the waist and flowed away from her body, to her knees. The front of the dress swooped around her collarbones and dared to tip off her shoulders, where long sleeves clung to slim, graceful arms.

The Headmistress inhaled sharply as flashes of the Yule Ball rolled through her mind. Hermione had transformed from a young, lovely girl into a stunning woman. Minerva was helpless against the smile that crept upon her face, lighting up her features. There would be time for business later, but tonight was to set the tone for the rest of the inquiry and, by extension, Hermione's presence at the school. Minerva desperately wished for interactions among the staff to be as smooth as possible…especially given the grey cloud of foul motives looming overhead.

Across the Hall, Hermione caught the Headmistress' eye and waved, flashing white teeth that contrasted beautifully to her scarlet lip stain. She kneeled down to Rose and kissed her on the cheek, releasing her to mingle with her friends for the evening.

Minerva stood from her seat at the Head Table, moving with swift step to greet Hermione. "It was so good of you to invite me, Headmistress," the younger witch reached out to shake Minerva's hand.

"Again, I couldn't be more pleased that you've joined us, Hermione. Shall we?" Minerva gestured back to the Head Table, where the chair left of her own was empty.

Hermione nodded as the two made their way across the Hall. Minerva only had to stop twice.

"Mr. Bonner, your hands would look far more flattering on her waist, if you please." The young boy flushed, moving his hands immediately six inches higher on the girl he was dancing with, who looked slightly relieved at the intervention.

"To be fourteen again," Hermione mused.

"Come now, Hermione," Minerva turned her head toward the younger witch. "You speak as if you weren't that age just yesterday."

Hermione's mouth gaped playfully. "Thou dost wound me, Madame," she held her heart over her breast melodramatically. "We can't all be perfectly venerable, _Headmistress._ "

"Touché," Minerva turned her eyes back toward the front of the Hall, quite enjoying the gentle banter.

They reached the Head Table, where Minerva made introductions, albeit a bit moot. However, despite the formalities, Hermione found herself in casual conversation with each of her former professors.

Although she wasn't at liberty to discuss the details of the investigation, Hermione was able to entertain most of the general questions from the staff. Most of the comments included how good it was to see her, and that their only regret was that it couldn't be on better terms.

* * *

A few hours later, she refreshed herself over a glass of punch with Pomona Sprout, who had cleaned up rather well for the evening. "I'm sure you'll make the best of it, dear," she smiled, patting her on the arm. Across the way, Pomona's husband and the Headmistress were deeply engaged in conversation.

"They keep fairly busy, those two," Pomona commented.

"Mmm, I can imagine," Hermione replied, sipping her punch. "I don't envy either of them, in the slightest."

"You stick tight with Minerva, and everything will be just fine," Pomona had easily picked up on Hermione's nerves.

Hermione sighed. "I don't doubt that I am in capable hands, professor. I just don't want this to be any more stressful for her than it already must be."

Pomona's face adopted an ironic smile. Both Hermione and Minerva's greatest amounts of worry would deal in protecting the other from any complication. She jogged a mental note to discuss this with Filius later. "You're both brilliant women. I have no doubts you'll pass through this with ease," Pomona refilled her glass and grabbed a second for Filius. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to make sure the Deputy isn't thirsty."

Hermione nodded. "Thank you, professor." She watched as the shorter woman carefully made her way over to an even shorter man, taking up the space where Minerva had just been.

Hermione's brow furrowed as she scanned the Hall for Minerva…She should have been easy to spot, taller than most of the occupants.

"Looking for someone?" Minerva questioned from behind Hermione, having just reached for the punch bowl.

Hermione jumped, turning around swiftly. "You startled me," she whispered. She wasn't sure why, but she did. "And yes, I was looking to see where you had gone off to."

Minerva stood next to Hermione and looked out over the floor to the students, dancing rather ungracefully. "Well it would seem I'm fairing well at my duties as chaperone, then."

Hermione folded her arms across her chest. "Yes, I'm sure lurking around in the shadows startling the staff and student body merits success," she mocked playfully.

"For all the fun, there must be the opposite swing of the pendulum," Minerva countered.

"Who was it in our fourth year that lectured us on ' _letting our hair down_ ,' as it were?"

Minerva's head snapped to Hermione, away from the floor. "You've got a bit more cheek than I recall. I suppose it's all bark and no bite?"

"Beg your pardon?" Hermione asked.

"Well I certainly shan't shy away. You make a fair point, Hermione," Minerva sat her punch down on the table and offered Hermione her hand. "Shall we?"

Hermione was too stunned to speak. The playful banter had felt so natural, even if it had been a bit heavy-handed. Hermione's nerves were still present, and this had been the healthiest way to counter them. But she could _never_ have expected to be where Ron had been years ago, which was arm in arm with Minerva McGonagall, preparing to dance.

Time was passing so slowly, but Hermione still couldn't grasp what was happening.

She blinked.

A steady arm slipped around her waist.

She exhaled.

A firm hand grasped her own.

She looked up.

Green eyes met her brown ones.

Her heart pounded in her ears. She could hear nothing else.

Slowly, she felt her body move but was unsure as to how. She was equally unsure where to look.

As she stepped on a black boot, shaking her head, Hermione snapped out of her own confusion. "Sorry," she muttered.

"That's quite alright, Hermione. It's not every day one's bluff is called by the Headmistress of Hogwarts," she pressed to lighten the mood. She had meant to catch Hermione off guard, but not to make her uncomfortable. "Just ease into the music, and I will take the lead."

Hermione sighed a breath of relief, exhaling deeply. "Best news I've had all day," she laughed awkwardly.

"I shouldn't have pressed so quickly. My apologies, Hermione." Minerva kept a steady hand on Hermione's waist, gently keeping them in step and time.

If possible, Hermione blushed a deeper shade than she had previously been. "No, please," she responded. "I was a bit bold this evening. You'd do me a service if you were able to excuse my poor attempt to seem effortlessly comfortable."

Minerva released Hermione's waist, gracefully easing her into a spin. "Consider it done, Hermione," they rejoined. "And I'm only sorry I've made that more difficult for you."

It was a polite display, both their conversation and their dancing. Each exchange of words found the two women able to speak only the language of propriety. It seemed an appropriate response to the unease that they had created.

Before Hermione was aware, the steady grip at her waist had fallen and the music had stopped. Heart still hammering, Hermione was now unsure of any aspect of herself, which resulted in her unconsciously fidgeting with her hands. "I could go for a drink."

"I think there's a few numbers left in the queue, and then we could retire for a _real_ drink, if you would like to join me and review some of the books I've gathered?" Minerva offered.

* * *

Hermione had said goodnight to Rose, whose hair had fallen loosely over the course of the evening, but looked like she had had a riveting time. She glowed in the candlelight of the Hall as she hugged her mother before retreating to the Gryffindor Common Room.

Filius and Pomona had left a few minutes prior, escorting the students and monitoring the passages back to the common rooms.

Minerva and Hermione were the last ones to retreat, slowly making their way to her quarters. "I don't mean to intrude, but the books Harry requested?" The Headmistress asked, hoping to ease the subtle tension between the pair.

"They're for research purposes. Harry and Ron lost an auror on their last mission, and the cause of death has stirred up some interesting new concerns," Hermione explained.

Minerva frowned. "I'm sorry to hear of their loss," she responded, slightly regretting having asked. "I hope the books are of help, then."

"Thank you, for going out of your way," Hermione looked at the ground. "Harry should have asked me first. I could have looked for the books myself…I know you're incredibly busy."

Minerva shook her head. "It took very little time out of my day, Hermione. I'm glad to be of assistance."

"Is this your attempt at a bribe, Headmistress?" Hermione asked, adopting her playful commentary once more.

"I suppose if it were a bribe, books would be a most excellent choice." They arrived at the entrance to Minerva's quarters.

Minerva ushered Hermione to sit on the chesterfield while she grabbed a pair of tumblers and the decanter from her cabinet. She poured generously and offered one to her guest before sitting. "Your overnight belongings as well as the books are waiting on you just round the corner, adjacent my quarters."

Hermione took the tumbler. "Thank you, and I shall have to extend my gratitude to Aila in the morning, I'm sure."

On the note of house elves, Minerva became thoughtful. Drinking the amber liquid in her glass, she relished the lingering burn that always came alongside the first dredge. "If you've time tomorrow, I would like to show you where your quarters will be."

Hermione sipped from her glass, following Minerva's suit. The burn was warmer than she was accustomed to, but it wasn't unpleasant. "You'll hear no protest from me, although I had hoped to see Rose for breakfast." Minerva nodded her approval.

It was silent for a moment while the two women enjoyed their glasses. "Will Rose be staying with you over Christmas break while you are here setting up?" she questioned.

Hermione looked into her tumbler. "I believe she'll want to head home to see Hugo and Ron, of course," she sipped. "So it's only me."

Minerva, whose Scottish blood was conditioned to whisky, had polished off the contents of her glass. "I see. I'll try to make for pleasant company."

Unsure if it was the alcohol, Hermione became suddenly very sad. She wanted so much for all of this to be different. She could already feel herself becoming distracted and absorbed by her own emotions in regards to the school and its staff.

She forced a smile despite the disappointment that had just settled in her stomach. "I'm sure you'll be plenty busy, Headmistress. I'll try to stay off your radar for the most part."

Minerva had taken note of the subtle cue. Hermione hadn't used her name, and she was trying to regain her footing on the business end of why she was here. Minerva would be supportive of that, as it would leave no grey area in an already grey matter.

Glancing at the clock, Hermione drained her glass and sat it on the table. "I've had a lovely evening, and I can't thank you enough for your hospitality and the books, of course."

Minerva stood, readying herself to walk Hermione to the door. "Likewise, Hermione. I do hope you sleep well."

"I'm thoroughly and wonderfully exhausted, and the whisky should help," Hermione smiled, stepping through the door. "Good night, Minerva."

"Good night, Hermione." Minerva waited for the younger witch to turn down the hall before moving to close the door to her quarters.

She poured one glass more and sat at her desk. Minerva sighed. As tired as she was, these letters weren't going to answer themselves.

Around the corner, Hermione had untied the thread keeping the books together. As tired as she was, they weren't going to read themselves.

* * *

AN: This is where I shamelessly ask you to review the chapter. ;) Hope you enjoyed.


End file.
